


Of All the World’s Vineyards

by Rosage



Series: A Handprint on My Heart [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: Hapi lost her roommate when Constance became a general. Stationed at Garreg Mach, Constance returns to her.
Relationships: Hapi/Constance von Nuvelle
Series: A Handprint on My Heart [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984274
Kudos: 11





	Of All the World’s Vineyards

Abyss houses some nobles’ former pets, ones bred to have a rounder shape or docile instincts, cast aside when that experiment failed. The cats slink around near the dorms. They won’t cozy up to Hapi, but she leaves out food scraps and uses Psychic on torn ears, and fewer mice scurry through.

Within a day of returning to Abyss, Constance carries a ginger runt inside Hapi’s—their—dorm, where she’s set up a ring of linens. The grey cat loafing there cracks open an eye at the new arrival.

“Play nicely, now,” Constance says.

“You’re really gonna let them sleep here?” Hapi asks.

“It’s so chilly in the corridor. Besides, the poor things could get hurt by some ruffians.”

Easier to run from those than monsters. “You sure you want hairballs in your boots?”  
  
“I clean them of blood regularly as it is.”

Like it’s any other chore, like she didn’t used to gasp at Hapi’s crumbs. Even Hapi’s teasing no longer earns a reaction.

And here is the problem with Constance. No hope means no disappointment. While war rages on above, Hapi has tried to temper her feelings, only for Constance to come crouch in a pool of blankets, cooing over the cat that tries to climb back up her. She pulls its claws from her dress to focus on a chant, which warms the blankets. Something she developed for when the army pushes into Faerghus.

“If they keep me up at night, I hope you can still fight monsters,” Hapi says.

“Of course. The past five years have honed my power above that of any adversary. Besides, I scarcely sleep. I’ll take full responsibility for them.” She looks over her shoulder to study Hapi as she would one of her tomes. “Though I admit, I thought you would be happy to foster the local wildlife.”

If she weren’t so damned dangerous, then of course the empty bunks would be crawling with them. Though, if things were different, the bunks wouldn’t be empty.

“They’ll get used to being spoiled. After you leave, they’ll wake me up by scratching on the door,” Hapi says. It’s already happened—lying alone in her bed, imagining what besides a cat might be seeking her. “Besides, I don’t know how to heat up their blankets.”

Constance’s face pinches like she’s balancing an equation. Soon, her spirits lift, as springy as the curls that have grown to bounce against her back.

“I shall teach you. And then we'll both be on the cutting edge of magical innovation,” she says.

The one time Constance tried to use her as a guinea pig, it wasn’t a sigh she released, her breaths too sharp. Instantly, Constance had dropped her implements. But lessons are different, and Hapi should learn to keep herself warm, when there isn’t a ringing laugh to do so.

* * *

At Constance’s request, they duck into the wayseer’s chamber. The purple glow and spiced, smoky air transports them to another world. Hapi spins the giant globe, then slows it with her finger, imagining she’ll go wherever it lands. It stops on a sea serpent.

Constance holds her back straight while she asks the wayseer about her goals. Years after impressing Edelgard, she’s still fighting to maintain her attention. Hapi can’t imagine having enough to offer—enough power—that someone would dedicate that much to her. She doesn’t want Constance’s sweat or expectations, anyway.

At first, the wayseer answers vaguely about a winding road, her gaze as foggy as her crystal ball. It all sharpens as she seizes Hapi’s hand. Hapi tenses, but the wayseer takes one of Constance’s, too, and Constance lets her bring their hands together over the table.

“I see, I see. Your fates are intertwined for years to come, perhaps decades,” the wayseer says.

Decades of life, after war and monster attacks? Hapi tries not to read into it. The dreamier types from her village might have said she and Constance orbit each other, even outside of their Crests and Aelfric’s manipulations. But Hapi knows Constance. She’ll achieve her dreams and make it out of Abyss, or die trying.

Constance flushes in the tinted light. “An intriguing notion. Of course, I do not bow to fate.” Her fingers curl over Hapi’s before retreating.

They leave to stroll through Abyss. Even with the church in ruins, people head toward the only shrine where all faiths pray in peace. Hapi and Constance weave across the market, pointing out food, art, and equipment they don’t buy. When eyes follow them, Constance loops her arm through Hapi’s, solid at her side where there has only been a shadow. They stay like that until they enter the bar and find a table.

Hapi can’t risk loosening her inhibitions, but she likes to guess drinks by smell. Not that Abyss’s liquor is an olfactory delight, as Constance would say. If only she could travel to all the world’s vineyards and taste every rotten grape. At least Constance might get there.

Gruff voices bring Hapi back to the present. She doesn’t listen to the deal going on at the opposite table. Instead, she sips her water and watches people in flowing, bangle-covered outfits dance together, their laughter as fluid as their movements. They seem wrapped up in the motions, in each other, in a way they couldn’t afford in another bar. Certainly not one with soldiers occupying it. 

Constance sniffs her drink and nudges it aside. “Pray, catch me up on all I have missed these past—four years? Six?”

“Five.”

A laugh forces its way out of Constance. “I was only testing you! Or rather, I hadn’t counted, as busy as I have been.”

“It’s okay, Coco. I thought about you, too.” 

Too much, whenever she ate alone, or heard news of a bloody battle, or stepped outside and saw a pegasus glide in a set path overhead. Constance’s cheeks turn just pink enough to be a trick of the dim light. “Well, of course you did.”

“To be honest, Yuribird and I thought you’d room up in the monastery with the other generals.” Most people never leave Abyss, but those who do don’t want to return. Yuri’s coming and going is an exception. Not that Hapi minds him asking her about the stars when it staves off their other questions, ones about the war and the friends caught up in it.

“He thought no such thing, given that dreadful name he still calls me.”

“Just getting out of the sun, huh? You must’ve dealt with it a lot.” The only times Hapi wished she’d taken up Edelgard’s offer, she was picturing Constance on the march, with nobody to offer her a cape to hide under.

“Restoring my house requires sacrifice. Though I will admit, I am relieved to escape the sun’s unfriendly gaze. The shadows contain kinder eyes.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. Like… cats. Adorable cats.” Another bubble of a laugh. “If I’m honest, the wayseer may not have been far off. Perhaps my return was inevitable.”

“You sure? Not a lot of glory to be found down here.”

“I do not have the luxury of being a fair weather friend, nor do I care to. There are other things worth seeking. Like good fruit, and—and cats.”

“I think we covered the cats.” A smile breaks Hapi’s control. Constance’s pout doesn’t match her newly sharpened features, her keen gaze, or the lean muscle shifting beneath her tight uniform as she plays with her long bangs. Hapi used to barely look at her. She could sense her constant company, like the hum in the air after a storm. Now, she forgets herself while she drinks in everything that has and hasn’t changed.

“Of course, someday my hard work will pay off, and I shall have my own manor. Who knows—perhaps I’ll pluck you from Abyss whenever I travel far afield,” Constance says. With an eye on the dancers, she drums her fingers against the table. “Oh, dear Hapi, say something!”

Hapi lays her hand over Constance’s knuckles, halting them with a brief touch. It’s enough for warmth to soak into her palm.

“Just come back in one piece, Coco, and we’ll figure out the rest.”


End file.
